On Our Backs
by MrTyeDye
Summary: A week has passed since the Loud siblings' roommate-swapping experiment, but Lincoln is still left with some lingering doubts about the outcome.


**Author's Note: First of all, I realize I've been keeping a lot of you waiting, and I want to apologize for it. For the past few months, I've been getting steady work as a freelance reporter, which is great, but it hasn't left me a whole lot of time for pleasure writing. I know that one of you is still waiting on a request, and several of you are still waiting on the next chapter of the Connie-Ronnie Switcheroo. I promise, both are coming soon.**

 **Second of all, as noted in the plot summary, this is a follow-up to Room with a Feud. Let me make it clear that I don't dislike that episode - far from it. I thought it had a creative premise and a pretty satisfying resolution, with some solid gags sprinkled throughout. It just reminded me of an issue that's sort of been bothering me since the beginning of the series, and I wanted to see it resolved.**

 **Anyway, that's all I wanted to say. Enjoy!**

* * *

 _"You worthless little insect! You're no match for me. Just give up!"_

Lincoln grunted in frustration and dropped his game controller on the floor. That was the fifteenth time in the past hour that he had to hear that phrase, courtesy of a video game boss who had been driving him nuts for a week now. _Muscle Fish: Insurrection_ had been a pretty easy game up up to that point, leaving Lincoln wondering why the developers decided to make the fight against Dreadnought Sinister so agonizingly hard.

Not helping matters was the fact that Luna and Luan were currently engaged in a shouting match upstairs. On the rare occasion that Lincoln got the upper hand, an outburst from one of the two sisters would throw him off his groove. He wanted to go up and tell them to knock it off, but after the whole roommate-swap quagmire, he felt that he'd lost the right to complain about his sisters' bickering. After all, they decided to switch back to their old living arrangements for _his_ sake, and he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Quite frankly, he was starting to wonder if he even deserved that gift horse in the first place.

But there was no way he was getting anywhere with that boss. He let out a sigh of defeat, shuffled over towards his game console, and shut it off, putting a merciful end to the sound of Dreadnought's evil gloating.

Moments later, he was met with a different, equally painful sound: the sound of the fourth eldest Loud stomping down the stairs in a huff.

"Well, maybe I'll just ask Lincoln!" she yelled. "I bet _he'll_ back me up on this!"

Lincoln groaned and collapsed back onto the couch. He had no idea what she and Luna were arguing about, but given his recent track record, he seriously doubted that he'd be able to settle it. If anything, he'd just make it worse.

"Hey, Lincoln?" said Luan, nudging her little brother's shoulder. "Would you consider Weird Al Yankovic to be a rock star?"

Lincoln only had a basic idea of who Weird Al was, and he didn't have any strong opinions on what constituted a "rock star". Still, he figured he could at least give her a flat, noncommittal answer, just to humor her.

"I guess," he muttered.

"HE SAID YES!" Luan called up the stairs.

"No, I heard him!" Luna called back. "A 'guess' is not a yes!"

Luan growled and stamped her foot. "God, she's just so... _difficult_!" she seethed through her clenched-shut teeth. "How is he not a rock star?! He plays his own instruments, writes his own...um..."

Her rant stopped cold once she noticed that Lincoln wasn't even trying to look her in the eye. He sat on the couch with his face buried in his hands, which looked like they were straining to support the dead weight of his head.

"Whoa, Lincoln, are you all right?" she asked, the indignation in her voice completely gone.

"Yes. No. Maybe so. I don't know," Lincoln said in a monotonous drone.

Luan took a seat next to him on the couch and draped an arm around his shoulder. "Come on, Linc, if there's something wrong, you can tell me," she said. "Why so glum, chum?"

"I-it's nothing," said Lincoln, swiveling a few degrees away from her and shaking her arm off. "It's stupid."

Luan grabbed him by the shoulder and jerked him back in her direction. "You know, Lincoln, there's a lot of things I can't stand," she said, taking on a firmer tone. "Asparagus... algebra... ants... heck, those are just the A's. But the one thing I absolutely, positively cannot stand is a pouty little brother."

Her tone grew gentler. "So please, let me help you. Talk to me."

Lincoln lifted his head from his hands, letting out some melancholy exhalation halfway between a grunt and a sigh. "It just pains me to hear you and Luna going at it like that," he said. "I can't help but feel like it's my fault."

Luan's eyes bugged out of their skull. " _Your_ fault? How is it your fault? Luna's the one being a music snob!"

Lincoln shook his head. "But, see, if it wasn't for me, you wouldn't even be _having_ that argument. You'd still be living with Lucy, and I know you were happier with her."

"Well, I _guess_ you could see it that way," Luan said with a shrug. "But the girls and I switched back by choice. We didn't want you to be stuck with someone you weren't happy with."

"Yeah, but now _you're_ stuck with someone you aren't happy with."

Lincoln shrunk away from Luan and clasped his arms tightly across his chest. "It just doesn't seem right, you know?" he said, his voice crackling under the strain of his angst. "That all of you would have to give up everything just for me."

"Lincoln, first of all, I'm not _unhappy_ living with Luna. She just grates on my nerves sometimes. But we're willing to try to work out our differences if it means giving you a living arrangement you're comfortable with."

She scooted closer to Lincoln, letting him see her pleading, trying eyes up close. "Your happiness means a lot to us. We _love_ you. Don't you get that?"

"No, I get that. I definitely get that."

His eyes suddenly became fixated on the floor below him. "But sometimes I wonder why," he said in a near-whisper.

Luan gasped. "Lincoln, how could you say that?!" she cried.

Lincoln's eyes sunk lower, as they seemed even more determined to avert his sister's gaze. "I'm just not as _good_ as the rest of you," he said. "Look what happened. I tried to get you a better roommate and I only made things worse. Then Lisa came in and totally showed me up."

Luan gave him a deadpan look. "Lincoln, you used a magazine quiz. _She_ used a computer algorithm that took our medical records and DNA into account. Of _course_ she's going to get the more accurate result."

"But that's my point," said Lincoln. "You and she and the rest of the girls all have so much to offer, and you've already got your lives all figured out. Lisa's a Nobel Prize winner, you're running your own business, Lola's appeared on TV, Lynn's as strong as a bull ox, Luna can shred like a pro..."

He sunk deeper into the couch. "...and I don't have any of that. I'm just me."

Out of the corner of his eye, Lincoln noticed her bottom lip starting to quiver. "L-Lincoln...I..."

Lincoln let his gaze drift back towards Luan, and his guilt-burdened heart grew heavier upon seeing the perky jokester's eyes start to mist up. Did he know how to do _anything_ other than make people upset?

Lincoln prepared to apologize, when he saw her eyes suddenly burst open with clarity, and heard a slight gasp escape her lips. He could practically see the lightbulb going up over her head.

"Wait right here," she said, hopping off the couch and bounding up the stairs. "I'll be right back."

For the next few minutes, Lincoln sat there twiddling his thumbs, wondering what Luan could possibly have planned for him. Occasionally, he'd overhear her whispering to one of their other siblings, or scribbling something down, which only piqued his curiosity even further. He briefly entertained the thought of picking his game back up and giving Dreadnought Sinister another shot, but he figured he wouldn't have enough time for that.

Thankfully, after five suspenseful minutes, he heard Luan clomping back down the stairs. She stopped at the last step, looked over toward her brother and motioned for him to follow her.

Lincoln shuffled over toward her, showing some slight apprehension. Even though he consciously knew that she was going to try to cheer him up, his instincts were telling him that if she had something secret planned, it was probably a prank. Regardless, he forced himself to ignore those instincts and trust her; it was the least he could do.

Luan took him by the hand and lead him up the stairs. "When I was your age," she said, "my improv teacher told me something that really stuck with me. She said that our best qualities are written on our backs."

Lincoln gave her a quizzical look. What did that even mean?

"The strengths and assets that make you special? They're all written right on your back, plain as day," she continued.

It was then that Lincoln noticed that she was leading him to Lucy and Lynn's room.

"The problem, then, is that they're just out of your line of sight. So you can't see your own, but you can see everyone _else's_ just fine."

She then opened Lucy and Lynn's room and pointed inside. When Lincoln looked in, he saw that Lucy was lying face down on her bed, writing something into her poetry diary. A piece of paper was taped to her back, that read "POETIC" in big, bold letters. Meanwhile, Lynn was doing bicep curls in the mirror, clad in a tank top and shorts. A piece of paper that read "STRONG" and "ATHLETIC" was taped to her broad, muscular shoulders.

"So you go through life surrounded by wonderful, gifted people, seeing the best that they have to offer. And you start to think, 'Well, what have _I_ got that they don't?'"

She then walked him over to Lisa and Lily's room. Lisa, who had the word "SMART" taped to her back, was demonstrating a complex math problem on a chalkboard, while Lily, who had "CUTE" taped to her back, watched in awe.

Luan then proceeded to walk him down the length of the hallway, passing by each of their sisters' rooms as they walked. Lola, who had "BEAUTIFUL" and "FASHIONABLE" taped to her back, was taking selfies in one of her pageant dresses. Luna, who had "TALENTED" taped to her back, was jamming on her guitar. Lori, who had "AUTHORITATIVE" taped to her back, was harshly reprimanding Charles for something, while Leni, who had "SWEET" taped to her back, was petting him and assuring him that everything was okay. Just as they arrived at the bathroom at the end of the hall, the door burst open to reveal Lana, who strolled out twirling a wrench in her hand. Naturally, the word "HANDY" was taped to her back.

"It's upsetting, isn't it?" asked Luan. "You can see all the best traits of everyone except yourself. Eventually, you might start to doubt that you even _have_ any of your own."

Lincoln then heard a sharp _rip_ as Luan tore a piece of paper from the back of his shirt. "But you definitely do."

She handed the paper to her brother, which had the following adjectives listed:

 _CREATIVE_

 _SELFLESS_

 _CLEVER_

 _GREGARIOUS_

 _THOUGHTFUL_

A smile materialized on Lincoln's face, which grew bigger and bigger the further he went down the list. As soon as he got to "thoughtful", warm tears started to trickle down his cheeks.

"Luan, you... you really think I'm all those things?"

"Of course I do!" said Luan. "Especially the first one. That comic you drew of us was _really_ cool. You've got a real imagination!"

She then slung an arm around him and pulled him in close. "And it won the contest, so clearly I wasn't the only one who thought that way."

Lincoln's trickle of tears grew into a steady stream as Luan continued.

"You're always putting others before yourself. Remember when we went camping, and you went out of your way to make it enjoyable for the rest of us? Also, Lori told me about the time you covered her shift at the arcade so she could spend the night with Bobby. That was really sweet.

"And I've noticed that whenever you're in a bind, you always manage to find a way out. Remember the whole 'girl guru' incident?"

Lincoln cringed, feeling a twinge of shame as he recalled how poorly that experiment went.

"That pie-throwing tank idea was _genius_. With one idea, you figured out how to salvage that business project, win the neighborhood's forgiveness, _and_ use all those pies that nobody wanted to eat. Do you not see how impressive that is?"

For the next few minutes, Luan went through every other item on the list, letting her little brother cry into her blouse. By the end of her speech, his once-heavy heart was swollen to the point of bursting, and half his face was taken up by an insuppressible grin.

"And there's one more trait I've been saving for last," she said. "Look very closely at that piece of paper."

Lincoln reopened the paper in his hands and scanned it a couple of times over. As far as he could tell, she had gone over every item on the list.

" _Very_ closely," said Luan.

Lincoln continued to search the paper for any sort of clue. Eventually, he noticed a tiny arrow in the bottom right corner, with the phrase "turn over" written just above it. He shrugged, flipped the page, and saw the following word emblazoned on the back:

 _TICKLISH_

Lincoln blinked. _This __was what she was building up to?_

Then, as soon as he looked up from the paper, Luan tackled him to the floor, pinned him down and started tickling his sides, leaving him in fits of hysterical laughter.

"L-Luan, quit it!" he cried, trying to squirm out of her grasp. It was no use; the elder Loud's grip was just too tight, and the younger Loud's cries only made her double her efforts.

"Cootchie cootchie coo! Tickle tickle tickle!"

After thirty seconds of tickle torture, Luan brought the attack to a climactic end when she pulled up his shirt and blew a big, wet raspberry right on his tummy, the sound of which echoed throughout the hallway.

At this point, Lincoln could barely breathe, and his laughs were interspersed with panting and wheezing noises. It had been five or six years since the last time Luan gave him a "tummy buzz" (as she liked to call it), so there was no way he could have seen it coming even in the midst of the tickling.

Having finished the attack, Luan pulled Lincoln's shirt back down, withdrew her hands and returned to a standing position.

"So, have I gotten through to you?" she asked with a smirk.

"Y-yes," he gasped, letting a few more guffaws escape as he tried to catch his breath.

"No more grumping and pouting?" she asked. "No more Mister I-Don't-Deserve-My-Sisters'-Love?"

"No more, I promise," he said. "Just- just please, no more tickling. I surrender. Mercy."

"Good. I'm glad we had this talk."

With that, she grabbed Lincoln by the hands, hoisted him up off the floor, and gave him a hug. At that point, Lincoln felt as if a massive weight had been removed from his shoulders. Any lingering self-doubt in his system had completely dissolved by the time Luan finished tickling him. Luan's message didn't just sink in; it hotwired his brain and assumed control of his entire body.

He was _loved_.

He had _worth_.

"Thanks for reaching out to me," Lincoln whispered to her. "You're the best sister a boy could ask for."

"And you're the best brother," Luan whispered back. She planted a big kiss on his cheek before releasing the hug.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," she said, marching back towards her room, "I've got an argument to win."

As soon as he heard Luan's door slam behind her, Lincoln wandered back downstairs. Imbued with a new sense of confidence, he spied his game controller lying right on the floor where he left it.

"And _I've_ got a boss fight to win," he said to himself. He flicked on the system, snatched up the controller and got ready to take down Dreadnought Sinister once and for all. This time, nothing was going to stop him.

Not even the sound of Luan and Luna ranting incessantly in the background.

"I'm sorry, but if your main instrument is an accordion, you're not a rock star!"

"Oh, then I guess Jethro Tull isn't a rock star either, because he plays the flute!"

"First of all, Jethro Tull is the name of the band. You're thinking of Ian Anderson, who _also_ sings and plays the guitar! And another thing..."


End file.
